


Locked up

by Mikasaessucasaa



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mafia AU, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:56:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikasaessucasaa/pseuds/Mikasaessucasaa
Summary: In the shadow of a revenge plot against the Lannisters, the Starks kidnap Jon Targaryen to get information. And in the process a lonely captor inadvertently falls for the captive.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 16
Kudos: 101





	Locked up

Sansa looped around the ballroom again, taking note of anyone paying close attention to her. She caught Jon Targaryen’s eyes as he whispered something in his brother Aegon’s ears. He had been watching her all night since she arrived at Aegon’s summer solstice party, and she had said as much to her sister on her ear piece.

“It’s okay. We have contingencies,” Arya responded to her concerns.

Sansa hummed in response. She didn’t like it, but it would have to do.

She tore her eyes away from Jon and traversed through the winding hallways of Dragonstone. She had always hated visiting this dreary estate with her parents. One would think that it would be warm and welcoming, being so far south, but the hot springs of Winterfell kept it much warmer than Dragonstone could ever be. But she supposed dragons don’t need warmth like wolves do. They say that dragons run hot after all. 

She stopped at a locked door. After a quick glance around her to ensure no one had followed her, she picked the lock open and entered Aegon’s study.

She quickly tore through his desk and found his laptop. Locked, but Bran should be able to get in with little hardship. She plugged in a USB that would connect Bran to the laptop.

“I’m in,” Bran said through her earpiece.

“What else am I looking for?” Sansa asked.

“Any personal effects that might be helpful in getting into his accounts. A work phone would be great. Also anything that looks out of place.”

Sansa scanned the room. No such luck with a work phone, but she did notice that a small dragon sculpture was misaligned from the other artifacts on a shelf. She went up to it and grabbed it. The sculpture was hollow. She smashed it onto the ground and picked up a USB that was hidden inside.

“Got something that might be helpful,” she said.

“I don’t think you do, sweetheart,” a low rough voice said behind her. She turned abruptly in surprise to see Jon Targaryen standing behind her. She hasn’t heard him come into the room at all. He was holding a gun pointed directly at her gut. She would bleed out in seconds if she was shot. 

“Jon Targaryen,” she said with an easy smile. “Just the man I was looking for.”

“Can’t say the same about you sweetheart.”

“Can’t you though? Isn’t that why you chased me down here? Because you were looking for me?”

“My brother said you looked like bad news.”

Sansa's smile widened. “You should listen to your brother.” 

“Drop the USB and put your hands up.”

Sansa did as instructed. “You know we don’t have to do any of this. You can put the gun away. There’s no way I would ever be able to overpower someone like you.”

“I don’t for a second believe that someone who has the audacity to sneak around Dragonstone has no physical skill.”

“Oh trust me, Mr. Targaryen. I have physical skill, just not what you were expecting." Sansa winked at him. "Besides, I’m just the distraction.” 

Sansa looked over his head, and he followed her gaze too late as Arya hits him in the back of the head to incapacitate him.

—

They set up Jon snow in a basement room in a safe house. It’s soundproof with no windows and only one door in and out that can only be unlocked from the outside. 

They left him in his slacks and button down shirt and tied down his arms and legs to a sturdy metal chair. Arya dumped cold water on Jon’s head to wake him up. He sputtered awake.

“Good evening Mr. Targaryen, you are currently being held in an undisclosed safe house until you provide the necessary information that we require. We will release you unharmed should you give what we need. Are you willing to cooperate?” Sansa asked.

“I won’t give you anything on my family.”

Sansa rolled her eyes. “We don’t care about your family. Whatever happened between our families was for the last generation to settle. We have debts to settle in this generation.”

Jon grunted in understanding. “The death of your parents and your brothers.”

“Yes.”

“You know who killed them.”

“We do.”

“And you want to get the information on them from the Targaryens? That’s suicide. Dragons don’t forgive.”

“Neither do wolves, Mr. Targaryen. This is the last time I’m asking. Are you willing to cooperate?”

Jon smiled. “Call me Jon.” His boyish charm exudes from the tilt of his mouth. How detestable.

“Okay Jon, are you willing to cooperate?”

“Depends, what are you asking?”

Sansa looked to Arya to ensure they were on the same page. Arya gave a nod. The risk of parting with some context was worth whatever new information Jon could provide. “Before you interrupted our endeavors, we were looking for information on the Targaryen’s dealings with a certain Baelish.”

“Petyr Baelish?” Jon spat. “We don’t work with that slimey bastard.” Jon squinted at Sansa. “I know you. Aren’t you his little pet?”

Sansa wanted to slap him, but Arya beat her to it with a hard punch across his face. Jon spat out a tooth. “I’m no one’s pet,” she hissed.

“If you say so doll. Why are you asking?”

Petyr had everything to do with it, but if Jon didn’t know anything there was no point in explaining.

“What about the Lannisters?”

“Everyone knows they’re done for after Tywin’s demise. If they had a hand in your family’s destruction, there’s no need to act on it. Just let them slowly self-destruct.”

“What about Tyrion?”

Jon scoffed. “That drunken fool? He’s currently Dany’s favorite pet.”

“And Cersei Lannister?”

“You mean Baratheon.” Sansa and Arya tried to look at each other discreetly, if Jon noticed he chose to ignore it. “Regardless, another drunken fool. She has no power.”

“Men always like to think powerful women don’t have any power.”

“Just because she had a hand in your family’s demise, doesn’t mean she’s powerful. It just means your family was weak.”

Arya growled at his insinuation and nearly jumped him if it weren’t for Sansa’s hand on her shoulder holding her back. Sansa shook her head. They step outside of the room to where Bran had been watching the whole scene unfold.

“He’s surprisingly willing to talk,” Sansa said.

“He likes you,” Bran responded. Sansa frowned. She supposed that was a fair assumption, but she wasn’t sure why. Their interactions have been short lived so far, with the majority of them being small glances at each other across the ballroom of Aegon’s party. “He thinks you’re attractive.”

Arya scoffed. “Lots of people think Sansa’s attractive. The question is, is his information going to be worth the risk we’re putting ourselves in? We don’t have a lot of time before his family find him.”

“Will his family look for him? He’s only a bastard,” Sansa asked.

Arya shrugged. “You heard him. The first thing he said to you was about what his brother said. He must at least be close to his older brother. Luckily for us his brother isn’t known for his brutality and smarts.”

Sansa frowned and looked back at the door to Jon. “No, but Jon is. I’ll handle him. Give me a week.”

Arya shook her head. “You’ll have less than that before the Targaryens find us.”

“I’ll make it work.”

—

“So are you here to torture me?” Jon asked as Sansa entered the room. 

Sansa smiled with a glint in her eyes. “Would you like that Jon?”

He grinned back and shrugged. “If it’s you, sure why not.”

She circled him in his chair and slid her finger on his shoulder softly. A shiver escaped him. “Unfortunately for you, my sister and I have a completely different set of skills.”

His head followed her through the room as best as it could, given that most of his body was solidly bound to the chair. “And what might yours be?”

“I’m just here to talk to you.”

“Well get some food and wine and we can call it a date.” Sansa laughed softly. He was a proper flirt this Jon Targaryen. She would have enjoyed his company, she thought, if it weren’t for their families. But family was everything. “You have a nice laugh.”

She gave him her brightest smile.

“Maybe we can go on a date one day when we get this all sorted out,” she lied. There was no sorting this out between them. They would kill him or he would kill them after this was all said and done. 

“Sure sweetheart.”

She pulled up a chair in front of him. They were close to each other, if Sansa wanted to she could reach with her long legs and run it up his strong thighs.

“So tell me about yourself Jon.”

“You probably know it all. Bastard son of the most powerful man in all of Westeros.” He leered at her. “I’d rather get to learn more about you.”

She tilted her head. “And what do you want to know about me?”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m sure you’ve already guessed it - Sansa Stark.”

“Sansa. That’s a pretty name, matches the pretty face.”

Cheeky. So cheeky.

“You’re not so bad yourself Jon Targaryen.”

His smile widened. “So this whole revenge plot, you and your siblings have. Why don’t you just let it all go? Your family is gone, save for you and what’s left of your siblings. No one cares about the Starks anymore. You could just get away from all of this.”

“Is that what you want to do Jon? Get away from all of this?”

“Sure who actually wants any of this? Enough power to start a war for a woman, and enough madness to go through with it. No one needs it.”

Sansa leaned forward, parting the top of her shirt from her chest. His eyes traveled down to her cleavage, before they slowly traveled up the column of her neck, stopping at her lips, and finally holding her eyes. She held in a grin. “Maybe you just haven’t found a woman worth going to war,” she said.

Jon scoffed. “No one is worth that much blood.”

She reached out and touched his knee. “You’ve never been in love before have you?”

“Sure I have, nothing worth throwing the whole world into a fire pit.” He paused. “Have you?”

She swallowed thickly, thinking of Joffrey. “I have. It’s quite an excruciating experience.”

“What was he like?”

“Beautiful and cruel. Like many men are.”

“Do you think that of me?”

“I know it of you. Jon Targaryen, the famed beautiful bastard cleaner of House Targaryen. You have more assassinations under your belt than anyone else from any other family.” Sansa didn’t add that her sister would soon take that spot for her assassinations against the people that plotted their family’s doom. “It doesn’t matter who, as soon as you have your eyes on them, they’re as good as gone.” 

“Then you know how dangerous of a game you’re playing sweetheart.” Sansa pulled away from him and shivered at the reminder. “Let me go now, and all will be forgotten.” She strongly doubted that.

"We just want to know what you have on the Lannisters, especially Cersei.”

Jon shook his head. “Knowledge is power sweetheart.” She liked the way he called her that a little too much. “I can’t just go around telling any dead family what they want to know. I’d be giving up too much power if I did.”

Sansa crossed her arms. “What does it matter if you give information on the Lannisters? You said so yourself. They’re nothing without Tywin.” And the Starks took care of Tywin themselves. “Do you feel wistful about the Baratheons? That had your father not fucked a child into your mother, you could have been Robert Baratheon’s instead? Robert Baratheon is gone by your own father’s hands. Stannis married Cersei, and Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen would _never_ have been your half siblings.” Even if Lyanna Snow had borne Jon from a Baratheon, Cersei’s children were Lannisters through and through.

Jon sneered at her. “You say filthy things with that beautiful mouth of yours. Untie me, and I’ll really make you sing.”

Sansa crossed her legs and reached out with her toe to rub at Jon’s calf. “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll give you a chance to prove your reputation of being a fantastic fuck.”

A vicious dragon’s smile overcame Jon’s face. “Trust me sweetheart, I’d fuck you into oblivion. I’d ruin you for any other men, so that when you fuck them, all you’ll be able to think of is how they’re never going to be me.”

Sansa pulled everything back, and pushed back her chair and stood up. They were short on time, but she wasn’t going to get anything out of Jon today. And she would be lying to herself if her body didn’t thrill at his words. 

“We’re done for today.”

He laughed at her retreat, and that night the sound of it echoed through her dreams.

—

They left him alone for two days, no food, no water, no sound, no light. 

When she opened the door to his room, his eyes shot open. He looked haggard, but he still managed to give an arrogant smirk. 

As she stepped closer, he suddenly jumped out of his seat, somehow undoing his bindings in those two days alone. Sansa tried to jump back, but was tackled to the ground by Jon. His full weight held her down.

“I could kill you right now,” he whispered in her ear. She barely suppressed a shudder.

“If you kill me, you’ll never be able to get out of this room,” she responded calmly.

“Your siblings would bargain for your life.”

She shook her head. “We had a plan for this. They would let you kill me and let you rot in here. What is one more dead Stark? You’ve thought it yourself, haven't you?”

Her heart was pounding in her chest, he must have felt it against his own.

He ground his hips against hers, his erect cock pressing menacingly at her core. “I could fuck you instead, into oblivion, like I said I would.”

Sansa held his gaze. “You won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you want it freely given. You want to see the defeat in my eyes, because I wanted you so bad I just couldn’t help myself.”

He pulled his lips back to bare his dragon fangs. “How right you are sweetheart. But I think I’ll steal a kiss anyways.”

He pressed his lips against hers harshly, prying her mouth open with his tongue. Forgetting for a moment that this was wrong, Sansa opened up her mouth to his insistence. He ground his hips again, and she responded in kind, moaning into his mouth. When he finally pulled back, he had laughter in his eyes.

She pushed him off of her roughly. “You’re filthy.”

He sat up next to her and laughed, as if he didn’t just threaten to kill her moments ago. “It’s not like I’m staying at the Four Seasons here.”

“Get back into your chair and let me tie you back up.”

“Why? I can just get out of my bindings again.”

“Come now, Jon. You know how the game works. Play along.” 

He smirked. “Anything for you sweetheart.” 

He sat on the chair and put his arms readily on the armrest for her to bind. For his legs, he forced her to have to pry his legs open to bind them to the chair legs. The look in his eyes told Sansa that he enjoyed watching her spread his legs apart and her lapse of control as she stared at his lap a moment too long.

“There, now isn’t that better?” she asked no one. “Now you stay right there, and I’ll be right back.”

As she left the room, Arya accosted her in the hallway. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, and I will be for as long as he wants to keep playing games. How’s it going at the Targaryen camp?”

“Aegon is looking for him as we expected, but from the chatter on the radio frequencies, it doesn’t seem like Rhaegar is all that concerned. Seems like he trusts that Jon will make his way home when he’s ready.”

Sansa nodded. Everything was going as expected.

\--

Sansa returned to the room with a large basin of hot water and a tray of food, balancing both precariously as she entered the room. Jon had remained in his seat as promised. 

“You’re quite good at that, very poised,” Jon commented. “I’d love for the chance to test how well you can maintain your poise when I’m fucking you.”

Sansa rolled her eyes, and ignored him. She set down the things in her hands in front of him, and decided to start with the food - soup and crackers, before the soup got too cold.

She kneeled in front of him with the bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. “Come, open wide.”

“I resent being treated like a child.”

“Then stop acting like one. I know you’re hungry.”

Jon looked like he was about to retort, but his stomach spoke for him instead with a large growl. He obediently opened his mouth for Sansa to feed him. Sansa’s eyes followed his lips and tongue too closely as he finished his soup.

“Good boy,” she whispered breathlessly. His eyes shined with a burning intensity.

She straightened away from him to set aside the bowl onto the tray, and put her hand into the water basin. It had cooled to the perfect temperature while she was feeding him. She dipped a washcloth into the basin, wrung it out slightly, before pressing against Jon’s face, wiping away the sweat and dirt.

He stared at her intently throughout the process, and Sansa could do nothing but match his stare. He moaned when she went behind his ears. A hot tension coiled in her core.

She unbuttoned his dress shirt and wiped down his chest, breaking eye contact to see where she was going. She felt him shiver as she wiped his nipples.

They remained in silence, until he said, “That feels amazing, sweetheart, you should go lower.”

As if being pulled out of a trance abruptly, Sansa jarred back and dropped the washcloth into the basin. She could see the beginnings of an impressive erection forming in his lap.

She gathered the tray and the basin and shot up suddenly and walked out of the room, her skin tingling.

\--

Sansa didn’t return to the room until the next day. After feeding Jon, she sat down onto a chair in front of him.

“Tell me about the woman that you loved,” she said.

“She was young and wild, a flame burning bright, burning out too fast.”

Sansa pursed her lips. “No such thing with dragons, burning out too fast. From what I’ve seen, they burn too long.”

“She had some of the makings of a dragon, but not everyone has what it takes to become a dragon.”

“And what does it take to become a dragon?”

“Tenacity and a steadfastness to do whatever it takes to get what one wants, regardless of the consequences, regardless of whether it is right or wrong, and a great deal of luck. I see dragon qualities in you sweetheart.” He grinned. “I could marry you and make you a dragon.”

Sansa scoffed, as if she could ever realistically consider his proposal. “I will always be a wolf.”

“Wolves are a dying breed, your pack is nearly decimated. Dragons don’t need any other being to thrive, but you’ll always need your pack.”

Sansa crossed her arms and tapped her index finger in thought. Finally, she smiled with her wolf fangs. “The wolves will come again.”

It was Jon’s turn to scoff in disbelief. “And how will that come to be? By you getting your revenge on the Lannisters and Baelish? They’re just petty players in this game.”

Sansa shrugged. “It’s just one small but necessary step. Come, give me what I need to know, and you will see how the wolves rise.”

“Give me a kiss, and I’ll trade you a secret.”

Sansa hesitated before finally getting up and leaning over to press a soft kiss against his lips. Before she could pull back, Jon’s hands somehow wrapped around waist and grabbed hold of the back of her head to pull her down into his lap. She gasped in surprise, allowing his tongue free entry into her mouth to attack her senselessly. A desperate moan escaped her as his hands were exploring her sides and cupping and squeezing her breast.

She pushed away from him.

“I thought we were playing the game where you pretended to be a hostage,” she whispered.

He pulled himself forward to whisper onto her lips, “I got tired of that game, and wanted to play conqueror instead.”

“And what exactly are you conquering?”

“The fair maiden Sansa Stark.” He grasped her hips and pushed her down onto him so her slit was rubbing against his hard cock. “I’ll make her a wanton, desperate thing, parting her lips, parting her legs, giving it all up to me.”

A shiver of anticipation ran down Sansa’s spine.

“I don’t much like this game. What does the fair maiden Sansa Stark get out of this except ruined honor?”

“Boundless pleasure of course. Besides, who needs honor? It is the most fickle thing.” He put his lips forward, to try to take another kiss from her, but she turned her head away.

“What you offer is not enough. I want my secret Jon Targaryen.”

Jon sighed. “Secrets, secrets, everyone in this whole damn realm wants secrets, but no one wants the truth.”

“Enough with your mad ramblings Jon. Tell me about Cersei Lannister.”

“The Lannisters are abound with debt to the Iron Bank,” Jon conceded. 

“But the Iron Bank still extends their credit, why?”

“Cersei has given Myrcella’s life as collateral, and everyone knows that Lannisters always pay their debts.”

Sansa could spit at how low Cersei has gone to get money, but she wasn’t sure that her father would not have done the same thing. Cersei loved her children, as her father had loved her, but when push came to shove father still insisted on a marriage of convenience with the Baratheons.

“How does Cersei intend to repay the bank and what does she intend to do with it?”

Jon looked at her with confusion. “Don’t you know? I thought that was why you asked about Baelish.”

Shit. They had hypothesized it, but had been unable to find proof of their alliance. “The Vale,” she said carefully. “Cersei would finance the insurrection in The Vale that would put Baelish in power, and with The Vale’s resources Baelish would pay Cersei’s debt. But that doesn’t explain why they would get into bed with each other.”

“Doesn’t it? If they really were the cause of your family’s demise, then this was all a play to create a power vacuum in the north and grab it for themselves.”

Sansa closed her eyes tightly, as if willing the world away. She had been so blinded by both Cersei and Petyr. For the longest time she had thought they were on her side. 

Jon lifted his hand to her face and rubbed gently with his thumb. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

She grabbed his wrist and pushed it away from her. “I’m fine.” 

She stood up and walked out of the room without preamble. She couldn’t stand this false affection. 

\--

When she entered the room the next day, he was sitting cross legged on the floor, rope bindings completely abandoned.

He abruptly jumped up and stalked to her, pushing her up against the back of the door, invading her space with his mouth on her neck, his hands grabbing and squeezing where they can find purchase. He pushed her so hard against the door, he lifted her up slightly, and she had no choice but to wrap a leg around him to get leverage. His cock pressed against her belly.

“Jon,” she gasped out. “My siblings are watching.”

“I don’t mind an audience,” he muttered into her. “It’s been days, and I need to fuck you now.” His hand slid down her body to grasp her at the apex of her thighs. “And I know you need it just as bad.”

She reached into her pocket to pull out a remote to turn off the cameras. This was a horrible idea, but Jon was right. She needed this; they were out of time.

He undressed her with no patience at all, leaving her bare except for the ankle strap holding her glock. He merely grinned at it, neither of them would reach for it now, before emptying her mind with a fierce kiss. She scrambled to undress him too, not wanting to be the only one laid bare. 

Soon they were lying and writhing on the cold hard ground. He aligned his cock to her entrance and raised an eyebrow in question.

“Do I look defeated to you yet?” Sansa asked.

“No, but don’t worry, I’ll make you look like you’ve won after this.” Sansa should have rolled her eyes and pushed him off of her, but she nodded instead. 

It was a hard fucking; Jon was relentless, as if he wanted to carve himself into her, and she matched him stroke for stroke. The ground was uncomfortable, but Sansa hardly noticed it between the gasps and moans and the desperation between them. 

“You feel so good sweetheart, I could die inside of you,” he whispered, bringing a hand between them to press and rub hard against her clit. 

“J-Jon,” she gasped. “I’m close.”

“That’s it sweetheart, bring us over the edge.” 

So she did. With a scream she came onto him and he shuddered into her.

He collapsed on top of her for a moment before rolling them over so that she was on top of him.

When they caught their breaths, Jon said, “Snow.”

“What?”

“I prefer to go by my mothers maiden name, instead of Targaryen.”

Sansa nodded gently, soaking in the significance of his confession.

“I need to know what the Targaryens have on Cersei. Names of lieutenants, locations of safe houses.”

Jon named them all from memory, and as he finished Arya came onto the speakers in the room. “Sansa, it’s time. They’re here.”

They hastily get dressed, both knowing the games have come to an end. She pulled out the glock strapped to her ankle and turned to him. He could easily overpower Sansa and turn the gun around on her, but they both knew he wouldn’t. He was infatuated with her, and had been from the moment he laid eyes on her back at Aegon’s party.

Sansa raised the gun to his head, and whispered, “Goodbye Jon Snow.”

She pulled the trigger and stepped out of the room for the last time.  
—

2 months later

Sansa finished ordering her vanilla latte at her new usual place. It wasn’t good for her to create patterns when she was on the run with her siblings, but there were always things that she couldn’t help. 

“Is your name Sansa?” the cashier asked as she rang up her order. Sansa frowned, she stopped going by Sansa two months ago.

“Who’s asking?”

“A gentleman had already paid for your order, said that it was for a redheaded beauty who goes by the name Sansa.” Sansa froze, she had hoped she didn’t really need to dye her hair, she loved her natural hair color. “He’s sitting over in the corner over there if you wanted to say hi.”

She turned to walk to where the man was sitting. She took a seat across from him.

“Jon,” she said harshly. “I thought we were over playing games.”

“I’m not playing games Sansa.”

“Are you here to kill me?”

He looked surprised. “What? No. I’m here to ask you on a date.”

She returned his look of surprise. “What?”

“You said when it was all over we could go on a date. I assumed that’s why you didn’t kill me in that room.”

Sansa laughed. She didn’t know why she didn’t kill him back then. Arya had admonished her for her folly, but they had gotten what they wanted out of Jon and they had said they would release him unharmed if he cooperated. A Stark’s promise was worth its weight in gold. 

“Cersei and Baelish are dead. I’m assuming that this means that it’s over,” Jon continued. “Is it?”

It’ll never be over, not the anger and hatred and bitterness of loss, not for the Starks. But for Sansa and Jon to give something new a try, it could be. “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was pure indulgence for me. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
